


The Burning of the Willow tree

by SugarPea



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Alternate Universe - Medieval, Alternate Universe - Royalty, Awkward Romance, Eventual Romance, F/M, Forbidden Love, Game of Thrones-esque, I JUST LOVE THESE DORKS, Kingdomstuck, Like Moulin Rouge, courtesan - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-05-01
Updated: 2019-05-25
Packaged: 2020-02-10 16:19:40
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 8,086
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18663940
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SugarPea/pseuds/SugarPea
Summary: In a time plagued by the division of a Kingdom, small villages are always the first and most brutal battle grounds.  During the raid of her own village, is Aradia Megido in the midst of a decision that will change the course of her life. The once farm girl and Shepard- turned courtesan -is now at the mercy of the foreign world of the elite. Conquering the complicated and, sometimes, peculiar ways of nobility is one thing.  Conquering the mysteries of her Lord and new employer are a bit more confusing.Equius Zahhak is a warlord, fabled in his country to be more beast than man and feared by any commoner bold enough to lay their eyes on him. However, it seems he has found a weakness within himself, one he can't help but indulge. A beautiful farm girl who's life became entwined with his due to his own impulsiveness. Not only must he quell the ongoing rebellion within the borders of his kingdom, but now he must face the battle field of human emotion and connection.





	1. prologue

It's been said, when disaster is about to strike, you feel it before you see it. A deep, dark, murky pull in the very pit of your stomach that churns your core. The sensation of being violently and agonizingly uprooted from your flowerbed. It is so distinct, yet subtle, that many mistake it for common anxiety or misplaced panic. That's what she had done, anyways. If she had only listened to her senses, put enough trust in herself to maybe entertain the idea that she may be correct in her hunches, none of this would have happened.  
It had been almost evening, but not quite yet. The sky was fading from a dusty light blue to a hazy pink that- when reflected in the water of the stream- looked like a moving painting. The lithesome peasant girl sat at the water's edge, scrubbing old linens in the cool water when the feeling first started to arise. A feeling that dug its claws into her stomach and tried to climb up her throat. It twisted and contorted around her lungs before squeezing her heart. And she had had the gall enough to ignore it.  
Aradia pushed the feeling down, back into the depths from whence it came from and returned to her peaceful chores. Cleaning had always given the Shepard a wave of nostalgia. Before her late mother's passing they would come down to the stream to do the washing together. Some of her happiest memories where of her childhood when she was being taught by her parents the ways of the land and how to survive in their simple way of life. Perhaps that is why she had stayed at the stream so long, to try and relive the carefree feeling of her childhood. Escaping inside of her head was not something unlike her to do, in fact, she often daydreamed of a simpler time when life felt all too overwhelming. Now she would need more than just daydreams and distant memories to put her heart at ease.  
She had been coming over the hill towards her village when she had heard it. Carrying her wicker basket of clothes and bed sheets on her hip, blissfully unaware of what was happening in her little town until a shrill sound rang out and ripped her head out of the clouds. It was a scream. A scream that couldn't be distinguished as human or animal, so primal, that it sounded less like a scream and more like a howl. It was then the feeling she had pushed down came ripping up her throat, refusing to be ignored again, and urging her to run. By the time she made it to her village it had been too late.  
The whole village was aflame. Houses were crumbling under masses of orange fire so large and hot, she was almost sure the tongues of the flames had burnt her face. There were people running, screaming, and even crawling away to get to safety. No one going in any real direction, unsure where safety even was, scattering around in the panicked way people do when caught in an attack. Aradia stood there for a moment, frozen in place as she surveyed the scene. There were armored knights, lighting fires to homes, striking down civilians, and barking incoherent orders to each other back and forth. At first she had thought that this may have been an attack led by the resistance but upon further inspection the realization came. These knights were clad in royal blue garbs among their silver armors. These were no rebels, these men were employed by the Lord of the land. These knights where part of the royal guard.  
She finally seemed to be able to move once again after her frozen moment of shock. She dropped her basket, discarding whatever was in it in order to lighten her footwork as she ran to her very own little home. Nothing too much to look at. A small shack of a farm house, a garden from which she ate from, and her sheep. Her livelihood. The one thing that got Ms. Megido anywhere in life, got her any sort of payment, and made sure she had a roof over her head was the flock she looked after. Her family had been Shepards before anything else and had taken up farming at the very start of the rebellion when times were just beginning to get hard. She grew up with the comfort of livestock being her pets-her friends. She cared deeply for the sheep, selling their wool and maybe even meat, if she was desperate enough, to keep herself afloat. As she got closer and closer to her home, the more and more the feeling began to crawl up her spine and into her brain. Her heart was pounding so hard she could hear the rush of blood in her ears and her lungs burned with smoke. Please let everything be okay, please.  
Her pleas fell unto deaf ears as she approached what was left of her home. The place was burning. It was so engulfed with orange and yellow that it looked less like a farm house and more like a bonfire. The wood roof of her home had long since caved in, the whole thing to burn inside and out, leaving nothing saved from the flaming wreckage. Her pen of sheep, illuminated by the flames of her burning home, was covered in red.  
Two royal soldiers, armed to the teeth in steel were slaughtering her flock. The screams of a lamb rang in her ears before she rushed to the bloodied pen, tears welling up in her eyes and yowling like an animal at the men on her property-or what was left of it.  
She had screamed at the men, pulling out every profane insult she could think of to release the anger within her. It was like the fire that fueled the destruction of her village was now fueling the very destruction of Aradia herself. One of the guards had raised a hand to her, ready to punish her for her impertinence, something she had expected and not cared about in the slightest. She had flinched back, awaiting the impact of a gloved palm, but none ever came. When she had opened her eyes out of curiosity she was met with a sight to behold. A man, a third soldier, twice the size of the two before him had come silently out of the smoke and grabbed the hand of her attacker before she was hit. Instead, it was him in pain, arm twisted behind him by a man who was obviously higher ranking then himself, as she watched the violent knight immediately submit. This was when everything went from disaster to catastrophe.  
It was Lord Zahhak. The Lord Zahhak. The man feared across the kingdom, a warrior known for his blood lust, his skill in deadly weaponry, and his sheer hulking size. The man was a giant among giants, towering over his two solders as they began to furiously accuse Aradia of interfering with their raid. They were both swiftly dismissed and this was when the Lord took off his helmet to look down upon the soot covered, teary eyed, peasant girl who was not yet done yelling her profanities. His eyes were icy and cold in comparison to hers which shone a bright amber in reflection of the fires around them. Aradia was never a particularly fearful girl, but the man before her struck fear through her very core. Her spine felt ice cold as he began to address her.  
He had apologized for the actions of his men, asked her her name and then asked her if she would be able to continue her way of life after the damage that had befell her. Of course she wouldn't be able to continue! Everything was gone! Her home, her flock, and her happy wistful memories had been burned away in a matter of minutes, thanks to his men! He had, then, dowsed her anger with a promise that she could have a comfortable life, one without poverty and grief like this as an apology from him if she so agreed. And that was how she ended up here. In a luxurious horse drawn carriage, all alone. There was no window for her to see out of, but the dips and twists in the dirt roads gave her enough knowledge to conclude that she was well out of the remains of her home village by now. Her home village never had any roads to begin with. Picking at the crushed royal blue velvet of her seat she began to second guess her decision. Was this really the right thing to do? A paramour?  
She still had no idea what he had seen in her. Even now she was getting day old soot all over the carriage that probably was worth more than her life- and then some. When he had first made the offer to her, her immediate reaction was to slap him across his scarred face and spit at his feet. Just what kind of a girl did he think she was? However, upon more thought, she realized the severity of her situation. She had no home. No flock. No money. The only place left for her were the whore houses in the nearest city, and even though she was a sheltered farm girl from a small village, she had an idea of what went on in those places after dark. Things that frightened her. She had never had a lover, she'd never really gone out looking for one. The thought had never really crossed her mind, but now that she had basically all but sold herself to a man she hardly knew, she would have liked it if she had been blessed with a lover who wasn't a murderer. A whore is a whore, that was a truth she could never escape, but she would rather be a whore to one man than a whore to any man who had enough gold in his pocket.  
The carriage jostled once again as its rear wooden wheel ripped through a dip in the road, sending the content of the carriage to go flying out of her seat and land bottom first on the floor. She had seen regal carriages carrying nobility pass through the cities many times before, however, she never knew just how bumpy of a ride they must have been until now. Pulling her frizzy dark hair out of her face, she managed to climb back on to he seat of the carriage, this time both hands gripping the seat as she rode on.Hopefully, this would be the worst of the surprises to come, but, that wasn't very likely now, was it?

The centaur, a creature known for its legendary power and strength. He had always been told stories about the half man heros who were fabled to have gone extinct over 200 years ago. Gazing on his family's insignia had always filled him with a sense of honor and a chest full of pride. Until now. The icy blue orbs of the beast seemed to look down on him disapprovingly from its stitched, narrowed, eyes. He had been staring at the man hall's largest tapestry for a long while now, trying to distract himself from the inner panic gnawing at his stomach. For the past two days, when he hadn't been nervously following the house maids around to make sure everything was in place and tidy, sparing with quaking valets, or destroying old hay targets and wooden arrows alike, Equius was endlessly chiding himself for this impulsive and rather foolish decision.  
In the end, it had been those eyes. Those deep amber pools that looked like they may have started the fire that scorched the poor village themselves. Of course, they hand't. That had been his fault. His own folly to let such over zealous armatures out of his sight for one moment. He had known they were volunteers from his serfdom, he had known they were poorly trained, and yet, he had put at least enough trust in them that when he ordered a search of the village for traitors that they wouldn't burn the community to the ground. Apparently that had been too much to expect, the moment his back was turned a small group of exceptionally violent men were able to turn almost his entire coop into a pack of wild animals. It seemed he blinked but for a moment, then the sky was filled with orange and the smell of smoke. The stench of burning flesh, a smell that was all too familiar to the warlord, caught his attention before the sight did. By then, he already knew there was no saving the poor district, and that many of the people were already dead. An anger flared up inside of him, his lungs starting to burn so hot he couldn't tell if it was the smoke from the burning colony he was approaching or his own rage. Upon entering the flames of the ruined village, he knew then he would have to travel on foot, as his stallion refused to get any closer to the danger. The large, black horse reared back and fled from the flames by instinct the moment Equius dismounted. His armor felt as if it were burning alive as he ran through the flames, only able to see just a few feet in front of him due to the smoke that polluted the air. He had been about to give up his search for the traitorous soldiers, feeling irritated and exhausted, before spotting the small, flaming farm house near the edge of town. The place that brought him to where he was now. The place that brought him to her.  
He had barely made out the silhouette of two humanoids, both masculine in stature and somehow knew it was the men who started this pillaging. This was not what they came here to do. He hadn't seen the third figure until he came closer to the ruined farm, stepping over the corpses of butchered animals. It was small, and seemed to be challenging the two soldiers he had once called his men, which struck him as rather odd. No peasant, no serf, no man in their right mind would dare engage in an argument with any soldier, especially not his own. He knew of his violent reputation that was whispered around the empire, he had heard the rumors of his men being demons that chased only after blood. Which was why he was even more floored when the figure turned out to be a woman.  
The way she spoke to these men, almost twice her own size, and the way she looked at them with such rage kindled a feeling in him he had never known. Not that he was one to know much of feelings in the first place, but this one was strong. The way she looked to him in the same way, with tears down her cheeks and wrath in her eyes struck him down. He had looked into the eyes of enemies before, seen resentment and hatred in their faces, but there had also been a respect, a fear. She looked at him in no such way. Don't mistake him, he wasn't a masochist, but to held in a standard like that, to be looked on as an equal even though through hatred was curiously refreshing. She had looked so small, so fragile that in a moment he knew she would not even last the journey to the next town never mind the next city, which was surely where she would need to go after a devastation of her livelihood like this. A sense of guilt had washed over him, another emotion he was only somewhat acquainted with. This was his fault. Maybe it had been that very guilt that made him offer this arrangement to her, or perhaps it had been her entitled rage that quickly subsided into fear when he revealed his face to her. He wanted to keep that rage, that sense of basic equality she had looked at him with. He wanted to keep her. 

"A servant?"

Her question was laced with venom and it caused a smile to break across his face, revealing a missing canine. Even though he knew she was terrified by the realization of who he was, she still had a fire in her that refused to subside. The way she spoke to him made him want to give her something of higher status, more than just a servant or maid, she demanded it and he was all too inclined to deliver. No one of her standing had ever spoken to him that way before. 

"No."

His voice was confident, almost eager to please, as his smile quickly faded into a shadow of a smirk. He would offer her the only other title available to someone of her most humble upbringing. She would be held higher than a mere servant, higher than anything she could imagine to have as a commoner. 

"A courtesan." 

He watched her face turn red with a fury he had never seen on one so gentle before. His smirk dropped as well as his stomach when he realized that she had taken what he had said as demeaning, although he was was not sure why. He had usually always been right, always correct in the ways of status and distribution of power. He had no idea why she had taken so unkindly to his offer. He hardly knew anything about peasant life and etiquette and as far as he knew they had none. However, he still prepared himself for the explosion of explicates that would come hurtling his way. But, there were none. Just silence. He watched as she seemed to think and her emotions were doused in what he could only imagine was the reality of her situation. If she did make it to the nearest city, her life would most definitely be even more impoverished than it had been before.  
It had only been when the small yes came from her lips that he realized the gravity of the settlement he had just made. He had never kept a courtesan before! Of course, he had met many, all under the regard of his noble peers, but still not known how the entire ordeal was handled. He had to take a moment to realize what he had just asked of the simple girl whom he had never met, and was suddenly engulfed in uncertainty. By the way she had reacted it seemed like she knew what a courtesan was, which had been a more fanciful word for consort, but to his dismay he assumed she knew more of the line of employment than he did. Which was why he had been acting this way.  
Unsure of how to prepare her quarters, the manor, even his appearance had left the brave and vicious warlord scrambling for information and reassurance. The only man he trusted enough to confide in had been Aurthour, his dutiful butler and houseman, who had raised Equius more than his late father ever did. The reserved servant had promised his Lord that the estate would be prepared well by the best staff he knew, including Ms. Leon, a house keeper of the Lejion family's that had been sent out to their manor for management after the youngest of the Lejions, Nepeta, had come for a visit. Equius had silently thanked his kindhearted cousin and dearest friend for the favor, knowing well that Ms. Leon held the same role for Nepeta as Aurthour did to him. Consequently, he still could not help but micromanage the entire manor in the days approaching Aradia's arrival, helping the maids even pick out the girl's new wardrobe.  
It was on the day of her predicted arrival that Aurthour had had enough of Equius's bothersome supervision and suggested to the Lord that he relax with some target practice out in the gardens. The young man, starting to work up a sweat from his apprehension took the butler's sound advise. While watching him leave, the old attendant couldn't help but suppress a smile. He hadn't seen this hulking monster of a man behave this way since childhood. Whoever this woman was, she would most certainly be affecting everyone within and without the Zahhak estate. He was glad. This place needed a good change.


	2. Arrival

The carriage finally seemed to stop on its endless and bumpy journey, and halted so suddenly that Aradia was lurched back out of her seat once again. How did nobles manage to sit in these things comfortably? She had ridden on the backs of mule pulled vegetable wagons as a child and that was far more comfortable than this ever was. She was left little time to collect herself before the dual doors of the carriage were opened and light from outside pooled in, temporarily blinding her. There she was, folded on the floor of the wagon, hair a mess and face covered in not only soot but embarrassment as well. A pale arm shot up to shield her narrowed eyes from the burn of the sun, she hadn't known what time of day it had even been until the carriage was opened and allowed the light of day. When her pupils adjusted to the unanticipated light, before her stood three men. Two footmen on either side of the vehicle, holding the doors open and clad in blue as well as a silver chest plate, a centaur etched in the center of the metal. Between them stood an older man, one with grey, thinning hair and an-almost comically- curled mustache. He looked down at her with the same coldness and indifference as everyone else employed by the Zahhak family seemed to. It seemed as if her welcome would be as cold as she had anticipated. He outstretched a hand, the other behind his back as he waited for her to gather herself and step from the carriage. Without another thought, and a sinking feeling in her gut, Aradia finally managed to pull herself up and out of the cursed, decorated and over glorified wagon. When her feet came into contact with the ground she was surprised to not feel dirt beneath her bare feet, but warm stone. The estate looked more like a castle than a Lord's manor. A grey cobble stone pathway led from the courtyard, one full of green, trimmed grass and an assortment of groomed hedges. She had never seen so much grass without a forest above it, and couldn't stop herself from gaping at the sight. The manor itself seemed to be as tall as it was wide, made of stone and glass windows. Two tall towers stretched up towards the heavens on both ends of the massive chateau, waving a large royal blue flag which both flapped against the wind. Down on the ground the breeze was almost non existent and she silently wondered how high the towers really had to be to reach such winds. "Ms?" The butler in front of her, now holding her hand gently asked, as if he had noticed she had become lost in wonder at the sight of the home. Her eyes finally ripped away from the breathtaking sight and found him again. His eyes, just like Lord Zahhak's were a cobalt blue, but somehow seemed easier to look into. "Aradia." Her voice was hushed and hoarse, not having much food or drink during her journey, she had seen the men who drew her carriage eat and drink before on the night they were forced to camp out on the road, but had been too afraid to ask for anything. She watched as the man took in her name and repeated it to her out loud, as if to affirm it to her before whisking her off, all but dragging her along to the front entrance of the building. The smells of the outdoors were rich, far more pleasant than anything she had been used to. Instead of manure, dirt, fire and sweat, the air was filled with the overwhelming scent of grass and plant life. Could such a place even exist? It felt more like a fanciful story than a reality. "I am to show you around the manor and get you acquainted with the lay of the land." The man continued in a monotone voice, as if he had rehearsed it prior to her arrival. The stone felt hot beneath her feet, as it had been beat by the rays of the sun all day, so when they finally entered the massive front door to the estate, she was relived to find herself standing on cool, smooth stone. The inside proved to be even more extravagant than the outside. A large, spiraling staircase was set before her, carpeted in blue and decorated in a golden trim. The same blue flags could been seen above almost every large doorway in sight, and at the very top of the staircase was a beautiful and massive tapestry. It depicted a centaur, holding a bow and arrow at the sky, as if opposing the gods. The closest thing she had ever seen to a tapestry was the small rounded embroidered cloths merchant women would occasionally sell in the town. She had always admired them from afar, but never had enough money to purchase one. She wondered how long it had taken to make such a work of art. "This is the main hall." The way her spoke made everything extraordinary about the manor seem so everyday, considering he must have been used to the ostentatious display. He then motioned to the two massive, and surprisingly door less, door ways on either side of the high ceiling room. They looked to be more like indoor archways, seamlessly knocked through the walls of stone. "To your right is the main dining hall where all of your meals will be served." Served? She wouldn't be dining with the rest of the help? Aradia had been under the impression that she would be kept as a handmaiden with certain...requirements. But it seemed as if she would be expected to live like a guest here rather than a servant. "To the lady's left is the library with entrance to the garden. Up the stairs are the washrooms, bedrooms, and the Lord's private study. However, my duty will be showing you the lower portion of the manor today." He dropped her hand and began to walk towards the left entrance, leaving the soot covered girl to stare, catatonic, in wonder. She would need to try and remember just how many rooms this estate had, and quickly concluded that it would be easy to get lost in such a vast house. "Follow me, please." His voice was curt, and almost annoyed when he turned to realized he was not being followed. It had been his tone that snapped Aradia back to attention. She- also- quickly concluded that she did not like the way he was beginning to speak to her. She followed, tight lipped through the library and gardens. The library was stacked so high with books she was in awe of the sheer size of the collection. She had never known so many books existed in her life. The garden was even more grand, not just full of ripe fruits and vegetables, but flowers as well. All the while being entranced by the lavish of her surroundings, she barely listened to a word the butler uttered. She didn't care for his tone of voice and it soon became clear he was aware of her disinterest. It was when she was led towards the back of the manor, which had been just as groomed as the front that he turned to face her. "Ms. Aradia." He began, looking down at her like a father would when reprimanding a child. "I'm not sure how peasants interact with each other, but I do know how we do around here." He emphasized the word 'we' she he watched her expression turn from childish wonder to impertinent irritation. "I strongly suggest you do not ignore those attempting to initiate you into your new life, and most certainly, not your Lord." There it was again. That look she had become so familiar with in the past two days, one akin to disapproval or criticism. It felt as if he was insulting her intelligence by reminding her of what manners where. She knew full well how to act in front of nobles, and knew for a fact, this man was not one of them. As far as she cared they were both equal, both employed under the Zahhak household, and as such she wouldn't take kindly to his lecturing. Without missing a breath she retorted "I know that." Her words sharp as she interrupted his thought. "We peasants know a bit more about decency than you may think, mr...?" her voice dripped with sarcasm as she made an over exaggerated imitation of how her greeted her earlier, outstretching a hand with the other behind her back. Making a faux half bow in the process of the display. The butler was taken aback by her turbulent response and recoiled for a moment. Was this really the girl his Lord was so seemingly infatuated with? She looked to be no more than 18 with the face of a woman, but acted like a smart alack teenage apprentice boy. He indeed had his work cut out for him. Clearing his throat, he embarrassingly realized he had yet to introduce himself, something someone of his age and experience should have known to do by now. "Just Aurthour is fine." He said finally, back to his stoic and monotone state. Turning on his heel, and not reminding her to follow, he began to lead her to the backyard. When she was out of his line of sight behind his back that Aradia silently smiled to herself. The grounds of the back courtyard were even more vast than the front, stretching out for what seemed to be miles before ending at a thick treeline, where the forest began. She could see a small stable, forge, and animal pen. Part of her hoped that the Lord may have kept some sheep but knew it was unlikely. Not many people had a need for a flock when they were rich enough to afford the meats and wool. Towards the other side of the yard was a smaller house, in which she could only guess were the servants quarters. After Aurthour had confirmed all of her hunches he then turned his attention to the center of the yard. In it seemed to be a small combat training ground, full of scarecrows clad in rebel attire and rather worn looking shooting range targets. There was only one other person in the yard along with them, a stature that was unmistakable and sent her blood running cold once again. Seeing him once more, but, in the clear light of day, Aradia's smug aura was snuffed and Aurthour could faintly hear her suck in air. He hadn't been sure what to make of this girl yet, but it seemed she still had the same reaction as everyone else did upon seeing their Lord. Equius had not noticed them enter the hind yard while immersed in the art of projectile warfare. Although he was hulking in size and could easily wield a sword, the bow had always been a weapon of favor. It held sentimental value as it had been the only weaponry his father had ever personally trained him in, and in his opinion, was by far the most fun. Shooting had always cleared his mind, as all he needed to focus on was not all but snapping his bow and hitting his target. It was simple. He had no need, no other purpose than to hit his target, reload, and then hit it again. It was only when he heard the familiar sound of Aurthour clearing his throat that he realized he was no longer alone. The elder butler watched as the two met eyes and seemed to share the same amount of fear towards each other. Aradia's eyes had widened and her stomach dropped, it took her a moment to pull her eyes from him and look towards the ground- as what was expected of anyone of a lower statues. At least she knew that much. Although Equius's expression remained emotionless, the keen eye of his houseman easily spotted the sweat that was beginning to anxiously drip down the side of his Lord's face. "Sire." He began, pushing Aradia forwards a bit by the shoulder. "Ms. Aradia has arrived." She felt like an object being offered up more than a person as she was pushed forwards by the butler. She shot him a look over her shoulder and the man quickly released her. Her heart felt as if it had dropped when she heard her new Lord utter a deep "Thank you, Aurthour, you may leave us." and the sound of the man servant's feet on the grass behind her becoming fainter and fainter. Suddenly, she didn't mind the prim old man's presence. Please don't leave me with him. "Right then." He had to gather himself. He had no time for something as foolish as anxiety to tarnish his qualified demeanor. Equius promptly set down his bow and quiver without another thought. A groundsmen would surely find them and put them back in their rightful place. "Come with me." He ordered the girl, who had been daring enough to lift her gaze from the grass and back up to his face. A long, vertical scar scratched down the left side, marring his otherwise clean and shaven complexion. Part of her wondered how he had even managed to get a scar so strange looking, but she dare not ask. She knew the basic rules of socializing with nobility, though she never thought she would have to use them. Do not make eye contact, do not speak unless spoken to, and do not touch. All seemed to silly to her before, and she was never able to see herself abiding by such pretentious rules, and yet, she couldn't find to confidence to break them. Well, at least two of them, as she had already managed to make eye contact twice now. Aradia started to become less and less sure she was able to handle the title she had accepted with each passing second. Equius led her back into the manor through the back doors to the dining hall, opened for them by two groundsmen who looked almost identical to the men who opened her carriage door. They looked at her with the same pretentious expression and she silently sneered in response while passing them. Just who did these people think she was? She wasn't some commonplace street whore or just a stupid farm girl! Equius ended up showing her around the manor again, reintroducing her to the rooms she had already been made aware of by Aurthour. He avoided the upper part of the manor for as long as he could, suddenly feeling awkward about having to show her to her quarters. He was well aware what her title was and what duty she was expected to serve but having to confront it in a way as subtle as a bedroom suddenly felt all too lecherous. As he led her up the luxurious staircase they both began to overheat in anxiety. He was starting to feel almost embarrassed and she was terrified he would expect her to start her duties right then and there. Approaching a wooden doorway, he stopped, and both their stomachs dropped. "These are your quarters." His voice was flat as he suppressed the anxiety in the back of his throat. What was he so worked up about? There was nothing of excitement or even the slightest bit suggestive about it. This was simply her living space, a space meant for her to live in. To sleep and bathe and relax in. As a droplet of sweat crept down the line of his back he quickly decided to not think about her sleeping or bathing or relaxing ever again. She started to feel her heart hammer against her ribs as he reached for the doorknob and opened it, revealing a room unlike anything she had seen before. A large, wooden wardrobe, painted with white and gold was set in the far right of her room, next to another smaller door. To the left side there sat a desk as well as a large window that over looked the gardens. The sun pooled into the center of the room in a rectangle, illuminating the luxurious bed that sat before her. She had never seen a bed- a real bed. Hers had always been a sheet stuffed with straw and an aging blanket to cover her. This bed was covered in soft, plush looking pillows and a large comforter. All with the same gold and white design. Above it was a canopy of a sheer, white sheet that seemed to catch the sunlight, appearing as if specks of gold had been woven into the threads. Before the bed stood a portly, older woman with a smile gracing her red and round cheeks. If Aradia had ever imagined what a grandmother would look like, it would have been this woman. "This-" The man motioned to the maid, who smiled politely at him before turning her gaze back at Aradia-" Is Ms. Leon. " The courtesan returned the smile and tried to tell the woman with her eyes how much she didn't want to be alone with this man any longer, hoping she would understand the silent plea. "She will be your personal maid as well as the general house woman who runs things along side Aurthour, who you met earlier." He ganced between the two before nodding towards Ms. Leon and looking back down at his new paramour. All of this felt so out of place. He had prepared everything himself and yet, still the feeling of ineptitude remained rooted in his chest. "I'll leave you two to..." he looked for the right words, finding a pause in his speech. "Clean up." And without so much as another breath he turned and left, leaving the door open and walking down the hall to his study on the furthest end. Why his words came out so uncertain remained a mystery to him, and he'd rather exit the situation causing his folly all together. The sound of a slam, harder than intended, of a door caused Aradia to jump and turn to look behind her. She and the maid sat for a moment in silence before a warm, calm voice reached across the room. "You can close the door, dear." Ms. Leon's voice had a motherly comfort that turned Aradia's ice cold blood to melt into a slow flowing molasses. She was not relaxed, but much less on edge as she closed the door behind her, dismayed to find there was no lock. Just what did she think she was doing here? Why had she accepted this role? You know why you did it. The condescending voice in her head answering her own question You did it because you had nowhere else to go. Staring down at her bare and dirty feet, Aradia turned to face the maid again. In the presence of another woman she started to feel ashamed of herself. Just what kind of self respecting girl would resign herself to such a title, even if she had nowhere to go. The lower class of the Empire were morally sound people who were raised to uphold a certain set of ideals. As a woman, being here now was against just about the most basic rule she had ever learned, and she feared she was being silently judged by the older woman in front of her. "Look at you." Ms. Leon sighed out, starting to make her way towards the girl, who looked downwards in shame, of course she would be judged. "You poor thing, you're covered in soot!" The unexpected turn caused Aradia to whip her head up in surprise. As the grandmotherly woman came nearer, she tried to search for any sort of disapproval in the wrinkled face, but none could be found. Only genuine concern could been seen in the wise olive green eyes. The old woman clicked her tongue as she examined the girl, pulling gently at the torn grey dress she wore as well as touching the wild mass of black curls that adorned her head. With a final sigh, she grasped one of the girl's small hands in hers and patted it softly. "Alright then, lets get you all cleaned up and out of that old dress. We've got plenty of new pretty ones for you to wear, and I bet if we brushed out that hair it would look absolutely stunning. Hm?" The smile that graced the house woman's face was so honest, so pure, that Aradia finally felt herself relax and her shoulders dropped. She hadn't even realized she had been tensing them. She smiled back, a grateful smile before sighing out "thank you." Ms. Leon nodded and began to lead Aradia by the hand to the doorway next to the wardrobe, turning the knob. "No need to thank me, dear, its my pleasure." She had an accent that Aradia couldn't seem to place. It was ever so slight but it was there. A role of the P's and R's in her speech making her tone sound almost like a comforting purr. As the door was opened it revealed a glamorous bathroom. Equip with a lavatory, sink, mirror and shining white bathtub. Upon further inspection, the tub was already filled with steaming water. Soapy suds collected at the rounded edges of the tub and an aroma of lavender wafted from the waters. She was not done gaping at the gross display of wealth today. She had been about to compliment the room when she noticed the feet of the bathtub. You've got to be kidding. Instead of claws for the feet of the tub, which was a usual accessory, there were hooves. Golden hooves. This man really liked his centaur theme didn't he? From behind her, Ms. Leon was pulling out a white towel from a shelf located behind the door, already busying herself with maidly work before directing the girl. "Undress and we'll get started." "Undress?" Her voice was a squeak as she instinctively wrapped her arms around her chest. The woman turned at her, bewildered by her outburst. "Well of course, how else are we supposed to bathe you?" It came out more like a rhetorical question or a joke but it was one Aradia didn't seem to understand. "You mean you're going to"- "I am your personal maid." There was another prolonged moment of silence between them before Ms. Leon gave into a large sigh and set the towel on her hip. "Things are probably a bit confusing to you. The life of nobles is labyrinthine to us common people." Her voice then took a hushed tone. "Between you and I, they're more like spoiled children with access to armies." A chuckle came from both before she continued. "But I suggest you try and get used to it. Many would love to be in your place, you'll come to understand the way things work soon enough. But first"- she motioned to Aradia's worn dress- "off with it. We'll get you all freshened up." Ms. Leon's words had a comforting but commanding air to them, like she was sure of herself and demanded Aradia's compliance. So, like a daughter being told what to do by a mother, she began to undress feeling a bit uncomfortable being so naked in front of another person. However, the maid paid her no mind as she started to pull glass bottles from the shelf, examining their labels. The bath water was hot, and difficult to slide into until her legs had become completely accustomed to the water, and once they did, she felt as if she were laying in a bed of warm fleece. The water soothed her, and soon she felt as if she never wanted to get out. She was helped when scrubbing her body of the day old dirt and soot, Ms. Leon covering the girl's back while she worked on her front and legs. The malnourished form of the now ex farm girl worried Ms. Leon. She had grown up as a commoner, training as a maid out of necessity before showing a talent in nurse maidening. She had seen many peasants, but as the years drew on they seemed to become more and more frail, becoming less cared for by the Empire despite being its backbone. It was upon viewing Aradia's own protruding spine that she was reminded of how bad things had gotten for the Empire in the past few decades. No wonder there was a revolt. The older woman made a note in the back of her mind to tell the kitchen staff to make sure this girl got a full meal. Over the course of her bath, the two women made many new discoveries about each other, for instance, Aradia had no idea what a sponge was and Ms. Leon had never heard of riverwashing laundry. Both women grew up very poor and shared memories of gardening, riding on the backs of vegetables wagons, and the small town wide fairs that would happen on occasion. Aradia had been in the middle of telling Ms. Leon about her flock of sheep when the most heavenly aroma hit her nose, it was such a sweet smell and she could not place it. Upon scrubbing the sudsy thick liquid into her hair, Ms. Leon had informed her that the scent was classified as 'citrus' and it came from tropical fruits- the names of which confused and fascinated the girl. Time seemed to not exist as the two women talked on and on about their pasts before it was time for Aradia to finally step out of the bath and try on a new dress- which Ms. Leon had anxiously been awaiting. They had only had the time to guess the girl's measurements, so the first time she tried on any of the dresses would help the maid see where she needed to take in the fabric or let it out. Reluctantly, Aradia stepped from the tub and dried herself with the towel provided to her by Ms. Leon and was led back into her bedroom. The air felt so much colder now that she had been immersed in the hot water for so long. Her pruned fingers picked out a simple burgundy dress from the multitudes that lined her new wardrobe. The amount of fabric had been so overwhelming she had just chosen to try on the first thing she could focus her eyes on. She let Ms. Leon poke and prod at her for a while, inspecting the dress that hung a bit too loosely over her chest and waist. She hardly cared, she had never worn such fine cloth before and she was thankful to even be touching it, never mind wearing it. As her hair dried, it became less frizzy and more curly, feeling soft to the touch. She couldn't help but play with her hair while Ms. Leon kept taking measurements and moving her arm back down to her side to get a proper one. Aradia had never known her hair could feel so silky. When Ms. Leon finally left her quarters, the sun outside that had illuminated her room was now a hazy orange. The day had ended up being so delightful that she had almost forgotten about where she was. Almost. It wasn't until Ms. Leon was on her way out with an armful of dresses to alter that Aradia was brought back to reality. "Lord Zahhak should be in the dining hall within the hour. I suggest you make it there soon to accompany him for dinner." When the door closed and Aradia was alone again, she remembered. This was no fairy tale. Ms. Leon was not her fairy godmother.


End file.
